


Like Fairy Floss

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Blood, Carnival, Creepy stuff, Gen, Halloween-esque Stuff, I mean there's some fluff in here too, sort of...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8416594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: Jesse and Cass find themselves in a carnival on a hot, starless night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to give one of my FAVE FANDOMS something a little eerie for Halloween. This is also sort of a fill for a "Jess doesn't like it when Cass feeds off other people" prompt, but mostly it's holiday-themed shenanigans. Hope you all enjoy - and HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

“I will one-hundred per-fuckin’-cent be having nightmares about this, Padre.”

 

Jesse nodded, letting a disgusted shiver run through him now that he knew Cass felt the same. They’d split two days back, Tulip heading east to track down an old ‘buddy’ of hers who specialized in silent weaponry while Jesse and Cass continued north. More forces than they liked to contemplate had taken an interest in Genesis, all of them sending out foreign soldiers—taking advantage of the power’s language barrier—and the three of them knew that they’d need every advantage possible from here on out, including the element of surprise. Silencers and a cache of minor recoil rifles would go a long way towards easing their minds in this war.

 

This though? Not so much.

 

“Didn’t even realize they had carnivals anymore,” Jesse muttered, quickly side-stepping a child too close to his legs. The little gremlin was dressed in all black with some sort of decorative mask plastered to his (or her?) face. In the light of day they probably appeared close to adorable, but night under a star-less sky... it was just this side of creepy.

 

Jesse hummed, watching the kid scamper off into the shadows. “Not anymore at least,” he finished.

 

Cass nodded and let a shiver of his own run through him. The carnival felt like the haze after too many drinks. Or the 2:00am silence during a childhood sleepover: the pull to speak truly and freely—the spill secrets—was nearly overwhelming.

 

“It’s a creep-fest,” Cass agreed, edging noticeably closer to Jesse. It was no easy task with the crowds around them. “Want to get out of here?”

 

“And spend the rest of the night in that motel? You’re kidding.”

 

Tulip had the easy life living out in the car. Whatever John-call-me-Jimmy Johnson thought a bed and breakfast was, it wasn’t what Cass and Jesse had been receiving the last two days. Any time spent out of that bug-infested room was a blessing, so Jesse tried taking in the sights as an excited tourist would, not as a strange man walking in what was suddenly a strange land.

 

Maybe a snack would help.

 

Leading them off to the side, Jesse forked over too much change for cotton candy and shoved a blue bundle in Cass’ face. They ate it in the mud rising up around a fortune teller’s tent (“We make our own fuckin’ fortune, Padre”), watching the ferris wheel and deciding, without ever having to say it aloud, that the ride was a death trap they wouldn’t be touching. So they slowed down their eating. Kicked mud to splatter their jeans. Washed the stickiness from their hands with a rusty hose. By the time they were done a crowd had begun to gather far down the path, lights and glow-sticks guiding the way.

 

“Feel like being a sheep?” Cass asked, still sucking bits cotton candy from his finger. Jesse nodded. There seemed nothing better to do.

 

They merged back into the flow of masked and costumed people, a menagerie of fantastical beasts, all of whom were perfectly average people beneath that cloth... but not being able to _see_ them set Jesse’s teeth on edge. The mummer of constant conversation didn’t help. All those kids laughing and shrieking. He didn’t like anyone who hid their face, even if the masks were just monsters hiding men.

 

And yet here was Jesse, a man whose body housed a monster. Another one ambling at his side.

 

“That just ain’t natural...”

 

Cass’ words echoed his thoughts. Passing various rigged games and more steaming food stalls, they came upon the stage that had captivated so many, the rickety wood surrounded by eager ghouls.

 

A man stood illuminated only by the moon… and he was swallowing worms.

 

Jesse grimaced. “Gotta be a trick,” he muttered, but there went another one. The man—whip thin considering his appetite—let his jaw swing wide and another writhing, dull pink worm disappeared into the depths of his stomach. Jesse pushed closer. He ignored the hot press of bodies around him and instead peered, trying to make out the details of this performer. His jeans were more stained than Jesse’s own. His neck and forearms smeared with what might have been coal. He was barefoot. In a flash of light Jesse spotted the brown moss on his teeth and thought hell, maybe he really _was_ eating them. The crowd gave an appropriately disgusted howl.

 

“Fuckin’ disconnected,” Cass said and Jesse nodded, immediately understanding. This strange performance didn’t fit within the otherwise shabby glamour of the carnival. They realized why a second later as the man, still consuming fat worms that he pulled from his pockets, was ushered off stage by another, nearly regal in a purple suit. Jesse was probably one of the few to realize how ill-fitting it actually was.

 

The man lifted his cane high in the air. “Astounding!” he boomed, voice rushing over them all. “Another marvel. Another mystery! Do you too have a tale to tell? Some mystical, magical art to share with the masses? Come one! Come all! Show us your skills!”

 

Jesse never would have thought that a voice that loud could also be so hypnotic, but the whole crowed swayed like they could hear a beat underlying the words. A number of scattered hands popped up, pale and shinning in the darkness, strangers who wanted to share their supposed talents. Jesse felt his heart kicking up a notch at the prospect, wondering what he might see beyond a guy consuming grubs. Maybe they should leave after all.

 

“My mate here can make you do anything!”

 

Jesse jerked, Cass’ voice still echoing, consuming all the other voices. As soon as it faded though the others started right back up, this time in excitement.

 

The performer’s eyes landed on them with scary precision. “Wonderful,” he whispered and he beckoned them both with his cane.

 

“What the _fuck_ , Cassidy,” Jesse hissed, hoping the use of his full name would really show his displeasure. Cass just grinned though, shrugging loosely.

 

“Can’t beat ‘em, you join ‘em... and I figure I’m already apart of this lunacy, bein’ a creature of the night an’ all,” Cass gave another shrug as the crowd suddenly surged forward, carrying the two of them with it. Before Jesse knew it he was standing on the rotten planks of the stage, wondering when he’d mounted the steps or walked under the weak spotlight. From this vantage point the masked people appeared even more unnatural. A little sinister too.

 

With a jerk Jesse realized they were _all_ masked. Every single one. The only plain faces he’d seen were the announcer and the man with the worms... who’d since disappeared.

 

“Your names,” the announcer asked, jarring Jesse from his thoughts. Cass jumped too, itchy beside him like he was suddenly regretting his impulsive action. What else was new?

 

“Paul,” Jesse said quick. “My friend here is Sean.” Cass shot him a look, but Jesse didn’t think it a good idea to give these people their real names. He couldn’t explain it... there was just some warning crawling up the back of his spine.

 

The feeling reached his throat and clench when the announcer cackled loudly.

 

“Those aren’t your names, boys!” he said and the rest of the crowed agreed, throwing out words of disappointment. “That’s okay though. We’re not interested in your titles, are we?” No, said the crowd. No, not at all. “We want your _skills_.”

 

Cass leaned back, eyeing the guy nervously. “Uh... right-o then. Je— _Paul_ here’s got the Word of God in him. Can make any bloke do whatever the fuck he wants, within physical limits, you understand. An’ I’m a vampire. I drink blood.”

 

He said the last bit with something like pride and despite the situation Jesse rolled his eyes. Leave it to Cass to spill all their secrets so casually. Not that it really made a difference. Those who mattered already knew about Genesis and those who didn’t would never believe.

 

...except that the masks all bobbed in unison. The announcer didn’t appear the least bit surprised.

 

“Wonderful,” he said again. “Wonderful! A demonstration from you both then! Entertain us this fine night, if you gentlemen would be so kind. Please, show us what it means to feed, _Sean_.” He pointed his cane and a figure began ascending the steps on the opposite side of the stage, like he’d just been standing there waiting for his cue. Tall and chiseled—even under the robe-like garments he wore—Jesse knew instinctually that he was beautiful, even with the goat mask covering his face. There was something about the confidence in his walk.

 

And the odd shine to his eyes.

 

The announcer swept aside to make room for this newcomer, his movement still languid even as Cass and Jesse exchanged a glance. The man rolled up his sleeves to reveal dark wrists and then, when they hesitated, he rose hands to reveal a dark neck as well. He then spread his arms like an offering, perfectly still.

 

“You... you want me to drink from you?” Cass stuttered. It certainly seemed like it, and the announcer nodded, the crowd raising their voices in assent.

 

Cass turned to Jesse for confirmation... and took a step back at his expression.

 

Jesse could well imagine what he looked like.

 

He knew exactly when Cass had last fed because he’d catalogued every instance, every single time Cass had so much as glanced in someone’s direction with that hungry, feral look. Blood bags were fine. They picked up what they could every couple of miles, stolen from hospitals, clinics, and mobile Red Cross centers. Watching Cass chug them in the backseat and admonishing that he not spill blood on the leather... it felt like being a goddamn parent, telling their kid to quit making a mess.

 

So Jesse had been surprised the first time they’d run into a sturdy group looking to pick a fight and Cass and torn the man’s arm open, guzzling from the shoulder even after he’d passed out. Jesse had taken one look at Cass’ lips wrapped along a man’s bicep and had snapped, tearing him from Cass’ hands like a rag doll. The ensuing fight had been quick and violent, burning out fast as theirs generally did. Jesse said it was the moral implications—no need to bleed the jerk out—but he’d known it was a bold fucking lie.

 

He’d felt the same when Cass had just nibbled from another asshole’s wrist. When the girl he hired took the knife he’d offered with a giggle. Even when Tulip—

 

Jesse drew in a deep, shaky breath. He could smell popcorn and fresh pine, nothing like the dusty plain where he’d found Tulip wrapped around Cass, desperately shoving an open vein in his mouth to fix the mess that his body had become. He’d healed, of course. They’d even taken care of the bastards who did it, but Jesse never quite got that image out of his head. He was painfully aware that Cass’ mangled body _should_ have been the thing to haunt him... instead it was Tulip’s dizzy expression as he drank from her.

 

She’d confronted him, after everything was said and done. Asking if Jesse really had his priorities _so_ fucking skewed. He hadn’t known how to respond to that except with a, ‘Yeah. Probably.’

 

When it came down to it, Jesse just didn’t want Cass drinking from anyone other than him. Real fucking simple.

 

And that included some asshole goat-man in front of an _audience_.

 

He didn’t hear the change in his voice and couldn’t see the flash of red that cut across his eyes. “Cassidy,” Jesse hissed, “ ** _drink from me_**.”

 

The crowd lost their minds as Cass hurled himself atop Jesse, knocking them both to the ground. He was heavy for such a skinny guy and Jesse let out a grunt—which then turned quick into a small scream as Cass bit down on his arm, teeth tearing the flesh ragged. He could have used the knife in his boot. Taken things slow. There was nothing in his order that wouldn’t allow that. Jesse could only assume that Cass _wanted_ it like this.

 

Fine by him.

 

The announcer was yelling something gleefully and the goat-man appeared to be watching them, head tilted in curiosity. Jesse only paid them the briefest glance. He was too focused on Cass: his body now laying across Jesse’s and rocking there happily, the soft snarls and slurps as he fed, the press of splinters into Jesse’s back, blood running hot down the sides of his arm. He raised his free hand and thread his fingers through Cass’ hair, thrilled when the crowed gave an approving cheer. He wondered what blood tasted like to a vampire. If Cass could detect the cotton candy they’d shared.

 

Jesse turned his head. He saw the waves of faces staring at him, made of plastic and looking like animals. Except that he could no longer see where the seams of the masks were and the voices... they no longer sounded like any language Jesse knew. His eyes went wide, realizing he was in this carnival, with people— _things_ —that were now edging closer, Cass very nearly sucking him dry. Jesse’s vision began to dim and he barely managed to pull tight on the hair in his palm.

 

“Cass,” he gasped. “Wait— ** _stop_**.”

 

He did. Cass collapsed on top of him fully, like the feeding had somehow drained him this time around. Jesse recognized the feeling that came right before you passed out and at the last moment he raised his gaze, finding the announcer standing directly above him.

 

“Thank you so much for that performance,” he whispered and as Jesse tried to answer, everything went dark.

 

***

 

He awoke to the hot desert sun beating down on them. Jesse’s skin—the parts that Cass wasn’t protecting—was covered in dust; red, blistered, and burned. His body was heavy from too much sleep and his stomach roiled from lack of food. Jesse’s parched throat told him he’d been there even longer than he might think.

 

There were only two movements around them: the buzz of Jesse’s phone in his pocket (Tulip, he knew, panicking about where they were) and the shallow but steady breathing of Cass against him.

 

Jesse couldn’t move just yet. He couldn’t answer his phone or roll Cass off him. There was too much else to consider—like the fact that they weren’t lying on a stage and there was no carnival around them. The only thing he could see for miles was sand. There weren’t even marks to suggest the existence of tents.

 

A dream then? A mirage? Hallucination, or hell, even a spell? Jesse had convinced himself of all four when he opened his mouth to whisper Cass’ name and caught the flare of pain along his arm.

 

Jesse stared. The skin there was torn from a bite mark. Blood had dried and caked along the wound. It already looked like it was beginning to scar.

 

“Cass,” Jesse finally said, needing his friend awake…

 

…because whatever this was, it was real.

 

 

 

Fin.

 

_~Be careful of the food you accept from strangers. You never know what their price for it might be._


End file.
